


The Double-Edged Gift

by Tawabids



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ceiling cat Emma, Dub-con/Non-con, M/M, Or so I claim, Sex Pollen, Telepathic sexual assault, repressed homosexuality/internalised homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tawabids/pseuds/Tawabids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the FBI capture Emma in Russia, she leaves something behind in Charles' head. </p><p>Erik finds him too exhausted to carry on alone, and helps him work through it.</p><p>Sexually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Double-Edged Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [this prompt at the X-Men First Kink community](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/397.html?thread=409997#t409997): "Charles successfully extracts Shaw's master plan from Emma's mind that day in the Russian mansion, but what he doesn't know is that Emma has left him a little present in return. I want Charles so turned on he's borderline delirious and Erik has to help relieve the pressure by giving him multiple orgasms. I'd rather they weren't in a relationship beforehand, but if that's not your kink then you can skip that part. Bonus points if Emma is in Charles' head the whole time like a creepy psychic ceiling cat and Charles knows it."

The atmosphere inside the truck is rich with resentment and fury. Erik would love to laugh at that, laugh right in Moira's face, and the rest of the CIA. He got the job done, didn't he? And a good thing, too. If he hadn't, they would be a mile behind Shaw instead of a few steps. 

He doesn't laugh though, mainly because Charles looks so damned uncomfortable. His cheeks are a rotten-egg grey and he keeps rubbing his temples as if to push together the seams of a splitting headache. He spends most of the trip back to their hideout not speaking. Erik thinks this is understandable. Charles is angry at him, and stressed by their close call, and shaken by the brush with danger. 

He is surprised, however, when they reach the lodge and Charles refuses dinner (it’s all freeze-dried meat and rice, but the rest of them haven’t eaten since breakfast). He claims he has a headache and goes to bed early. Erik even feels a little disappointed, because he thought Charles was made of sterner stuff.

When he has finished an awkward and mostly-silent dinner with Moira and Levene, Erik goes to check on Charles and his 'headache'. The shared bunkroom where they will all spend the night is pitch black, even the thick curtains drawn against a starry soviet sky. 

"Charles?" he feels for the gas lamp (the lodge has no electricity) and lights it. It makes a hiss like a breath, and Erik hears a sob. "Charles?" he hurries to the bed in the far corner.

The telepath is facing the wall, curled tightly into himself, his shoulders shaking. Erik thinks he's crying and his disdain is replaced by a rush of concern. He kneels on the unvarnished floor, puts his hand on his friend's arm and leans over to look at Charles' face, and - _lieber Gott!_ \- he realises Charles is rubbing himself off, frantically and with tears on his cheeks.

"Close the door!" Charles croaks, his tone begging and swollen with the rhythm of his own arousal. His cock is poking out his fly like a sordid cartoon character: it's far too cold to undress further. _"Please!"_

Erik flicks his hand at the door and it shuts with a solid click; there is no lock, so he pinches his fingers and the strikeplate warps, jamming it shut.

"Help me," Charles looks up at Erik, his blues eyes rimmed with red, and then he squeezes them shut and comes with a shudder into his hand. Erik sees that he's already made quite a pool on the sheets and is using his own ejaculate as a lubricant. Within a moment he is jerking his fist once more. "She did something to me," he groans, pressing the side of his face into the thin, filthy pillow. "In my head. I can't. I can't get relief."

Erik understands at once. He's not sure if Charles' telepathy has brushed him or if the situation is just that obvious. But without even thinking he reaches out, shoves Charles' sodden and inflamed fingers aside and begins to stroke him, slow and with a gentle circle of his thumb over Charles' tip. Charles' mouth opens so far it looks like he's trying to dislocate it, and he arches back against Erik's chest. Erik hangs the lamp from the ladder beside his head so he can steady himself against the quick thrusts that Charles is now exerting into his palm. 

Charles comes again. For a moment he slumps boneless into the bed, and then his cock stiffens again in Erik's hand and he lets out a moan that is all frustration and shame nothing to do with sex.

"She's in my head, she thinks it's _funny,_ " Charles wheezes.

"Bitch," Erik says, low and furious, resuming his ministrations.

"Don't!" Charles cries at once, hilariously offended, because even with a literally-fucking boody-trap in his head and his best friend jacking him off in a Russian shack in the middle of nowhere, Charles is still a gentleman who disapproves of bad language. To his own shame Erik feels himself begin to respond to the sight and smell of it all. He has to split his concentration between helping Charles and blocking that thought from the two telepaths in the vicinity.  
Charles comes again within a minute, and Erik holds his hand over his friend's mouth until he stops crying out in orgasm. He thinks for sure it is over, but then sure enough, Charles begins to twitch against his hand once more.

Erik's pants are far, far too tight now, but his only thought is to ride this wave with Charles until it is over. His wrist is getting tired and he is pumped with anger at Shaw's henchwoman. He thinks, _you want a show, Ms Frost? I'll GIVE YOU a show._

He grasps Charles' hips and rolls him flat on his back, tugs his trousers open a little further and then takes Charles deep into his mouth. Some quiet, long-hidden part of him rears up without a trace of shame. He has always taken note of techniques when he has fucked ladies in the mouth. He's always known he wanted to try it for himself, though he's long staunched those desires. Now it is crucial that he remembers the way Elsa licked, the way Theda sucked, the way Karen did that tickle with her lips. Within minutes, Charles climaxes again. Not wanting to contribute to the mess his friend has already made, Erik swallows hungrily. He rests with one hand splayed on Charles' clothed hip and his friend's cock sagging from his mouth, breathing in the smell of him, and then it starts all over again.

He had can hear Frost laughing in his head. He isn't sure if her powers really stretch that far, or if Charles is amplifying them. Either way, he mentally shoves her aside. _I hope you can feel that,_ he thinks, in case she is listening, and sucks Charles off again. He makes it as slow and gentle as he can, because he can hear by his friend's half-pained, half joyous whimpers that Charles is exhausted.

Once more after that, and then Charles starts coming dry. He is shaking as if hypothermic and his pulse is erratic. Erik is terrified this thing that Frost has put in his head is honestly going to give him a heart attack, or an aneurysm, and Erik will have enabled it - but what else can he do? The moment he lets Charles' cock slip out of his mouth, his friend’s hands reach down to rub himself again, and Erik refuses to let him shoulder this humiliation alone.

The roof of his mouth is numb. He can taste Charles all down his throat, like a molten syrup. His hand inches to his own crotch, barely able to repress the need - but no, no, it has already gone so far that Charles will probably shun him forever after this. Don't make things worse.

And oh, _oh_ , she is withdrawing at last. The loss of arousal is itself like an oncoming orgasm of relief. Charles' weak thrusts have turned to leftover shivers. He is so spent he starts to slide off the bed, and Erik catches him, bundling him on his own lap and gently tucking his friend's cock away; the zipper he closes with a flick of his powers. Charles' breath comes in shallow huffs like a wounded animal and his eyes are closed, but his heartbeat is steadier now. He's not going to die.

After some time, Charles opens his eyes. As he looks up at Erik, the beginnings of a smile flicker around his mouth. "I did not expect that of you."

Erik grumbles, "I knew I'd be in trouble when I threw in my lot with telepaths," he can see already in Charles' face that this is not the end of their friendship. No, not at all. So he says, in a mock-serious tone, "I can only hope you'd do the same for me."

"With pleasure, my friend," Charles whispers, and closes his eyes again, already dozing in Erik's embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the first things I wrote on the XMFC kinkmemes, and it'll probably be one of the last I post on AO3. If you remember a particular kinkmeme fill that I haven't reposted and you want to see cleaned up, feel free to drop me a line (you can PM me on [my lj](http://tawabids.livejournal.com) if you don't want to comment on AO3) and I'll probably have a go at it :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Help Me If You Can](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3772561) by [cygnaut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cygnaut/pseuds/cygnaut)




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